Rise From The Ashes
by Faded Classic
Summary: Two best friends, yet polar opposites, are kidnapped for the sake of Itex's newest 'project'. Watch as their world is turned upside down as they struggle to cope in their own custom-made hell. T, may up. Previously Levitas Offendo. Penname was waterglow.
1. Sagittarius – The Hunter

**Title****: **_**Rise From The Ashes**_**  
****Author****: HallowedHallsOfWriting  
****Chapter Rating****: M  
****Summary****: Two best friends, yet polar opposites, are kidnapped for the sake of Itex's newest depraved experiment. Watch as their world is turned upside down as they struggle to cope in their own personal custom-made hell.  
****Warnings****: Background character death.  
****Disclaimer****: I don't own MR!**

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**CHAPTER 1: SAGITTARIUS – THE HUNTER**

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Thud!

The sound echoed through the large, mainly empty room. A rather young woman picked the cause of the noise up, thumbing the thick spine. She flipped through the file the older man had all but slammed down on the desk. One eyebrow arched elegantly as she scanned through the pages, never lingering too long, but not overlooking anything either. The man twitched as he waited for her assessment on the project he created. Oh, he hated the women with a passion. His hatred of her was only rivaled by the way he felt about her being his superior. And it didn't help that she was actually smart; one of the few high-ranking scientists in Itex that didn't reach her position by sleeping with her boss. He would have really preferred to have Dr. Whalen, the woman who truly defined the stereotype of a dumb blonde, look over his proposal. She wasn't smart; the only reason she was even in this corporation was the fact that Jansen was her aunt and she had his division's president's ear – among other things – in her slutty little hand. Still, she would have been a hell of a lot easier to convince her. But no, he got stuck with one of the smartest and ruthless scientists, and to add insult to injury, he wasn't able to bribe or, ah, _convince_ her like he had with his previous bosses. Yes, he really hated his boss.

His thoughts were interrupted when said woman looked up from the file he had constructed so precariously. "Tell me why I should fund this expedition of yours?" she asked, one eyebrow raised in skepticism. He analyzed the words briefly, listening for any of that hidden poison on dagger sharp tone that promised a swift death to anyone who gave her an inadequate answer. When she used that tone, it meant she was displeased and unimpressed, and that everyone around her should watch their backs. He subtly relaxed his tense posture, detecting no malice in her voice, simply curiosity.

He cleared his throat a bit. She looked back at him, eyes flickering impatiently. "The Director has been having quite a hard time capturing and containing the escaped experiments, Subjects AH-001, 002, 003, 005, 009, and 011. The papers in those files contain a formula to create the perfect hunter for them, one they will have no chance standing up to. To gain full results, though, the specimen selected for this procedure must be physically and mentally fit, as well as receptive to the Mindcontrol toxin that Itex has recently created. There are still minor flaws in the design, but that's all they are, minor. Unless the experiments discover them, which is highly unlikely, then they will not be affected by them at all."

The woman nodded approvingly, and the man's tension unwound even further. She had agreed! She approved! It would be the pinnacle of his scientific career, he thought gleefully. He would rank her now! He would be famous in this building! It would be him the president turned over the company to, he would be the one who would climb the ranks, and he would be the one who eventually ascend to invulnerable godhood that came with being the director of Itex. Lost in his jubilant and ambitious thoughts, he didn't notice the muted ping of a gun safety being clicked off. He was already envisioning himself at the head of the staff table, eating caviar and drinking fine wine. The woman spoke again.

"This is an incredible piece of work you've turned in, doctor. You've really outdone yourself. However, it might have been a bit to much," she said. His face lost its dreamy expression and turned into one of blatant shock that she was criticizing him. She laughed slightly at the look on his face. "Oh, no, don't get me wrong. It's perfect. _Too_ perfect though, for an underling like you to submit as your own. It's so convenient that you haven't put your name down yet Lowen. You've truly saved me so much time." She grabbed one of her thin felt-point pens and jotted down the name _Delaney M. Whitakker_ beneath the title on the portfolio cover. He looked at her uncomprehendingly. Was she trying to take credit for his work? As if she could read the look on his face, she grinned rather sadistically. "I'm not _trying_ to, ah, steal your thunder, I _am_."

Quick as lightning, she whipped out the slim handgun she hid beneath her robes and aimed it directly at his forehead, right between his eyes. Said body parts widened to a size that would have been comical had the circumstances been any pleasanter. "You know, it's a shame I have to do this. You were one of my best subordinates. But sadly, you're too dangerous of competition for me to have. You've outlived your usefulness. Good bye Lowen." He could only wait as the bullet entered his skull. Time slowed down and everything seemed sluggish. Then came a second of agonizing pain, like burns from a fire of a thousand degrees multiplied by the hundreds. And then as he opened his mouth to scream from the pain, the blessed, welcomed black came as he fell into Death's embrace, his abyss of unfeeling.

Delaney stood there, watching the body as, in practically slow motion, crumpled to the floor, glassy lifeless eyes staring up at her from the corpse of the man she had shot, the smoking barrel of the gun proof of that. It was how she had managed to get so far up; eliminating competition. Delaney Marie Whitakker was at the top of the food chain here, and she would do anything to stay there. _Anything_. Stealing, cheating, plagiarism, blackmail, threats, even murder. Someday everything she had done would catch up to her. But until that time, she was invincible, invulnerable. She turned sharply on one sharp heel, and strode purposely out of the room, file clutched under her arm, phone flipped open and pressed to her ear.

"Yes?" she said, glossy round lips forming the syllables, the slight southern twang in her voice a bit more resounding than normal. "There has been an… _accident_ in room 132. Send a cleaner down there right away." She snapped the phone shut with a sharp _click_, tucking it back in her pocket. Walking through the door, she flicked the light switch off. Bright lights met her eyes as she walked down the hall to her boss's room.

That room filled with pitch black darkness cloaked one of Itex's best kept secret. The body of Jonathan Lowen, creator of the SAGITTARIUS project.

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**So? How was it? This is one of the fairly less dark chapters. It gets worse; much, much worse.**

**Still interested? Next chapter should come out soon. Reviews are loved and appreciated.**

**~Hallow**


	2. Abduction

**Title****: ****_Rise From The Ashes_  
****Author****: HallowedHallsOfWriting  
****Chapter Rating****: T  
****Summary****: Two best friends, yet polar opposites, are kidnapped for the sake of Itex's newest depraved experiment. Watch as their world is turned upside down as they struggle to cope in their own personal custom-made hell.  
****Warnings****: None  
****Disclaimer****: I don't own MR!**

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**CHAPTER 1: ABDUCTION**

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" – and this is a copy of the famed Mona Lisa," the tour guide droned on, looking like she would rather be anywhere but here. She was dressed in an uncomfortable-looking tight black dress with those annoying ruffles at the bottom, and high heeled shoes that squeezed painfully around her feet. Kayla sighed. Today was just not her day. First she forgot to eat breakfast due to oversleeping; she had been up until two in the morning trying to finish her calculus homework and studying for her biology test she had tomorrow. Consequently, she was having trouble focusing, which sucked for her, seeing as art was one of her favorite subjects. She brushed a strand of ash blonde hair that had fallen out of her ponytail, tucking it behind her ear. It was really unfair, she mused, that she was stuck listening to what was possibly one of the most boring lectures in the history of lectures. And all she wanted to do was sleep. She contemplated laying her head down on the table she was seated at, which was inside one of the staff rooms of the Art Museum of America, and just falling asleep, using her soft white sweater as a pillow. She didn't, however, get the chance, because just then her phone vibrated, signaling an incoming text message. Mentally, she thanked the heavens that the rather loud vibration was muffled by her clothes. She stole a quick glance around the room to see if her art teacher, Ms. Greenleaf, or really anybody else, was watching as she slid her cell phone open.

She looked down to see the text. It was from Dustin. She barely restrained herself from rolling her eyes. He was sitting right next to her; he could have just as easily passed her a note or something. She opened it and read.

_Boring. She needs a life._

This time she really did roll her eyes. _No shit_, she sent back. She watched as his eyes widened at the text when he got it. He was surprised; she didn't blame him. She was always the scholarly, teacher's pet kind of girl, always sticking up for the professors, unwilling to bad mouth them. The fact that she was agreeing with him on that subject, let alone actually cursing, was a huge first for her. Still, there was no denying it, she was _bored_. Bored as hell out of her fucking mind, as Dustin would so eloquently put it.

" – so now that you have your instructions, you may partner up and complete your assignment," her teacher said. She felt panic rising inside of her. Oh no. She didn't have a single clue what they were doing! _That's what you get for spacing out_, her mind taunted her. Oh shit. What was she going to do?

She stood off to the side, watching as several girls accosted Dustin. There were a few others that didn't have partners, but she didn't dare go up to them. To scared, to nervous to, she always thought. She leaned slightly against the wall, all but blending into its whiteness. She'd just stand here; maybe someone would come be her partner.

No one noticed her.

She took a step away from the wall, and was promptly accosted with the urge to hurl. Her stomach flipped and fluttered, making her stumble a bit. This is why she hated being noticed by a bunch of people; she was always attacked by nerves, making her feet stumble, tripping her words up with a thick tongue, her clumsiness magnified by a hundred-fold. Her heart pounding, her body feeling light-headed and dizzy, she carefully approached the nearest girl.

"Excuse me," she said, mumbling the words softly. "Would you like to, uh, bemypartnerforthis?" she asked, stringing her words together in her nervousness. She felt a flush rise up her face, coloring her cheeks cherry red, as she looked down at her feet.

"Um, okay," the other girl said. "I'm Marie."

"I'm Kayla," she said quietly, looking up a bit.

"Oh, you're that girl who always sits in the back corner of the room! I was wondering what your name was. I mean, you were all, like, _alone_, back there. It's like you have _no_ friends. Seriously, though, I've never seen you talk to anyone. It's so, like, freakily _weird_, ya know? How do you, like, live like that? I mean, really. It's creepy," Marie finished, snapping her gum. Kayla felt her cheeks heating up again.

"Okay," she said, her voice a mere wisp of what it normally was.

They walked down the halls of the museum together, Kayla silent, listening to Marie prattle on about absolutely _everything_. Honestly, did this girl ever _shut up_? And the annoying thing was, all she talked about were kids at school. Grant was hot, Jason and Briana made a cute couple, wasn't that girl Anna a bitch?, a cheerleader named Melli was such a slut, the captain of the football team was gorgeous but a total asshole, etc., etc. There was no denying it, Marie was a gossip. She knew anything and everything about what went on at Crystal Heights. It was rather unnerving, to tell the truth. Did she stalk the people?

Kayla eventually got bored of listening to her, and instead focused her vision on Dustin and his partner, Hailey. God, she was annoying. She had long, beach blonde hair and an obviously fake tan, and she wore layers over layers of makeup. Her white shirt was so tight on her that she looked like she was about to burst out of it, and her shorts were _this close_ to being counted as – oh, hell, she didn't know, but they were pretty short. She was clinging tightly to his arm, hanging all over him. She was chatting animatedly with him, delighted to have snagged the school's resident eye candy for the whole afternoon. He told her something Kayla couldn't hear, but Hailey let out a high laugh at that. She eventually let go, skipping to a painting – Van Gough, if she was looking at it correctly. She continued on, meandering through out the hallway, until she noticed, out of the corner of her eye, something that made her blood freeze with complete terror.

_Dustin was gone_.

"Hey, Marie, 'scuse me for a bit,": she said quickly. "I gotta go find a bathroom."

Marie crinkled her nose, and waved her off. Feeling inexplicably brave, Kayla darted through the throng of people visiting the museum. She turned the corner, just in time to see a dark blue sweatshirt disappear out the doors. _What on Earth is Dustin doing, leaving the building?_, she thought. Nevertheless, she continued after him, slipping out the door.

As she let the door close behind her, a cacophony of sounds, sights, and smells assaulted her. Honks, beeps, revving of engines all pulsed in her ears, the smell of gasoline and exhaust made her nose sting and eyes waster, and the harsh brightness of the sun reflecting off of cherry red vans, practically neon yellow taxis, sparkling white cars, and even shiny black motorcycles. Her head pounded and her vision whirled as she scanned the area, looking for that head of black hair and dark skin. She started to panic, her throat constricting in fright. _Where is he?_

A few seconds later, she got her answer. There, near an alley, was Dustin, being dragged… _dragged_? What the hell was going on? Her eyes widened in fright. Oh god. Ohshitohshitohshitshitshitm, this was _not_ good. She bounded down the steps taking two at a time, then sprinting across the lanes of traffic, causing cars to stop in their tracks and blare their horns at her, but she payed no attention to it. The only coherent thought that was running across her mind was _I need to get to Dustin_. Perfectly oblivious to the commotion she was causing, her breath came harsher, until the point she was running out of air. Still, she pressed on, pushing her legs to their limit. She ran faster than she ever had in her life – which really wasn't that fast, considering her average mile time was nine minutes, but I digress – feet drumming into the sidewalk, sweat pouring down her face due to the heat of the sun bearing down on her, and the heat of the sweater she was wearing. She abruptly skidded to a stop and veered sharply down through the alley. She stopped in her tracks.

There was Dustin. He was putting up one hell of a fight, fists flying, legs swinging. Her eyes widened as one of the men who were trying to defeat him picked up a crowbar. A sharp gasp escaped her lips; she covered them in time to stop herself from screaming. As she gazed on, he moved his head and saw her.

He opened his mouth.

"Kayla! Ru – " He never got the chance to finish that sentence. The man with the crowbar slammed said weapon into the base of his skull. He dropped like a rock, slumping to the ground. His eyes shut, nut his mouth was still open from when he tried to warn her. The other men quickly got to work, pulling out ropes and blindfolds as they set to work binding him. The leader looked her way, his pale, watery eyes alight with excitement and appreciation as he slowly trailed his gaze up and down her body.

"Well, well," he said, a malicious sneer adorning his face. "What do we have here?" He slowly stalked toward her, baring his yellowing teeth in a sharp girn, and she was vaguely reminded of the way a predator stalks its prey. She stood still, sheer terror rooting her in place. As he stepped toward her, she mentally cursed herself a dozen times over for not running while she had the chance, or at least screaming. Maybe someone would have come and helped her. Maybe, just maybe, she wouldn't be in this situation.

He was a little more than an arms length away when she finally regained control of her body. She whirled around, starting to run, only to nearly run into another one of the goons. She panicked, breaths coming in short little puffs as she struggled to remain calm. This was not good. This was really not good, not good, not good at all. The terror was too much for her, too much for her to stand. Toppling over, her eyes rolled back into her eyes as she fainted on the spot from pure fear. She hit the floor with a light thunk.

The two men looked down at her. The one with the smooth, slicked back brown hair spoke.

"We have to take her with us. She saw too much; she knows too much."

The other man, this one with rumpled blonde hair frowned. "Why? She's completely useless. You saw how weak she was. She'll never survive; she'd just be a waste of company resources, a waste of the money that could be used to build hardier specimens."

"Well, I agree with Jeff on this one," the last member of their little team, this one a redheaded woman said. "If anything, she could be used as leverage on the other specimen. He obviously cared enough to try to warn her; she could be very useful as blackmail."

The two men started. They had completely forgotten that she was there. The blonde spoke up again. "You got a point…" he said, his sentence trailing off as he contemplated what was just said.

"Besides," the brunet interrupted. "She's a pretty little thing. The boss might like her, if you know what I mean," he finished, a wicked smirk on his face.

The blonde nodded slowly, his lips curling into a sneer. "Maybe, if we're lucky, we might even get a piece of her." He snickered at the thought. The readhead rolled her eyes. Guys. Such a one track mind. If it wasn't food for them, it was sex. Honestly, sometimes she didn't know why she even put up with them.

"All right," she said briskly, clapping her hands together sharply, drawing their attention back to her and out of their little fantasies. "Now that that's settled, let's tie the kid up and go! We wait any longer, we'll get caught!"

They trussed up the girl and tossed her in the back, next to the boy. The two men stood in the back, ready to knock them out if they woke up, while the woman drove. Equally evil smiles crept over all their faces. This mission was a complete success. They might even get a raise!

Nobody noticed anything suspicious about the old van that sped out of the alley, cruising down the way to the Virginia location of Itex's laboratories. If they had looked twice, they would have noticed the silhouettes of two abducted teenagers, and people standing guard over them. If they had looked closer, they would have seen that the logo on the side of the van said 'Happy Pets, Inc.'. If they had seen that, they would have remembered that Happy Pets, Inc., closed almost a decade ago, and all of their property had been destroyed by a terrorist bombing that had nearly wiped out the nearby town.

But nobody did, so the van sailed on, unhindered by anyone.

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**Alright, not one of my best chapters, but it was kind of a transition one. You know, how they got there, why they were taken, etc., etc. Stuff like that. Please review! Constructive criticism is most certainly welcome, but it would be preferred if flames were not sent. Tell me if this is good or bad, because quite frankly, I am not the best critic of my own work. Your comments are loved.**

**~Hallow**


	3. Dustin's Side

**Title****: **_**Rise From The Ashes**_**  
****Author****: HallowedHallsOfWriting  
****Chapter Rating****: T  
****Summary****: Two best friends, yet polar opposites, are kidnapped for the sake of Itex's newest depraved experiment. Watch as their world is turned upside down as they struggle to cope in their own personal custom-made hell.  
****Warnings****: Gene-pedophilia…? Errrr, let's go with that. If you don't like thousand-year-old cells going in teenage boys… don't read. Okay, that just sounded wrong.  
****Disclaimer****: I don't own MR!**

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**CHAPTER 2: DUSTIN'S SIDE**

* * *

Dustin sat up slowly, head pounding. He groaned groggily. "Where the hell am I?" he said, voice muffled by the gag… GAG?

He immediately sat bolt upright. Or, at least, he tried to. He lifted himself barely an inch, when something dug into his skin, and something shocked him. Hard. He bit back a scream as several thousands bolts of energy coursed through his veins, making him stiffen, his body arching. Several minutes later, his harsh, ragged breathing calmed, and he was able to regain coherency of his thoughts. Cracking an eyelid open, then quickly shut it, wincing in pain. Damn, what had _happened_ to him? He ached all over, muscled throbbing painfully, and his skull felt like elephants had tap danced on it. After waiting for about a minute, he slowly opened one eye, then the other. He lifted his head slightly, angling his eyes downward. They slightly widened as he took in the criss-crossed metal straps fastened around his body like cuffs, locking beneath the bed, where there was no way to get to them. He twisted his head slightly to the side, appalled to find he was encased in a pod made of some kind of plastic material. The fuck? Was he really that dangerous that he needed to be kept like some kind of savage? Straining his eyes, his eyes widened as he realized that the things he had previously thought were simply metal staffs were actually other containers like the one he was in. And not only that, each one held a boy, around his own age, except for the one on the edge. He watched with horrified fascination as the doors slid open, revealing two masked men and a bound, unconscious boy, who they dragged across the floor to the empty one. They shoved him roughly in, making sure that he was securely locked up before locking the door that opened the coffin-like structure and leaving the room.

Suddenly, a woman's face appeared right in front of his, studying his face. She looked like she was going to wet herself with excitement when she turned and shouted to the others, "It's awake! The specimen is awake!"

A flurry of activity broke out. Lab assistants, if he was to go by their lab coats, bustled about, picking up vials and taking note after note, grabbing syringes and filling them with some sort of liquid. The head scientist, the one giving the orders, was a fairly good-looking brunette, not much older than him. You know, he might consider doing her if she hadn't been, oh, say, _doing god-knows-what to him_. That was a major turn-off. Seriously. He started internally panicking as they wheeled him out of the room, the cart with toxins following. His case was pushed into another room, this one smaller and emptier. In fact, aside from the lab people, he was the only one. Watching with wide eyes, he struggled to hear what they were saying. They were observing him, looking up and down, and noting things on little pads of paper. The lid to his little vessel was open. Seeing a chance to get free, he started struggling against the bonds that held him in place, twisting from side to side in an attempt to shimmy out of the straps. He saw a man hit a button, and immediately felt the shock again, only ten times worse. Distantly, he heard the sound of someone screaming as he thrashed about. It took him a few minutes to realize that the person was actually him. As the energy wracked his body harder, he kept on screaming, knowing that he would never be able to quiet down. His vision was going fuzzy, the world spinning around in circles, colors blurring together until it was just one big kaleidoscope.

He dimly felt someone approaching him, and barely felt a shot of sedatives enter his body. The world was getting farther and farther away as he sank into blissful unconsciousness.

* * *

The scientists stared down dispassionately at the boy as his screams finally died down as the sedatives began to work. He shook his head in annoyance. Really, if that boy wasn't such an important specimen…

His thoughts were interrupted by the voice of his boss. Turning to her, he focused his attention on her words.

" – specimen seems to be compatible with this strain. Project SAGITTARIUS is underway at last. There are no need for the other specimens, but we will continue to observe them should anything go wrong. They would be replacements if this specimen does not react favorably to any of the tests." She droned on and on about various things, but he tuned her out as he focused on the boy again. It was true, he did have all the correct qualities to become the primary test subject. His frame wasn't as powerful as he would have liked it to be, but the lean, slender body would be especially useful for dodging and sneaking. From the information they had gained on this boy, he was a very successful athlete – one of the best runners in his state. His grades, though not excessively high, were average and would only be enhanced by the processes. He felt a miniscule smile appear on his face. The hardest part was over. They would finally get their chance to create the perfect human.

However he did have one question though. He moved over to the scientist in charge of the project. "Professor, what type of gene exactly have we inserted into him?" he asked, choosing his words carefully. Delaney Whitakker was not a woman you would call _nice_. Or even tolerating, for that matter. She was cold, ruthless, and ambitious, the type of woman who would kill her own mother, father, and lover if it got her what she wished. There were even rumors that she had killed the subordinate who had come up with this project, so that she herself could take credit for it. You had to tread carefully, very carefully around her. Dealing with that woman was like trying to walk in a viper's nest – once you knew that you had done something wrong, it was too late.

She looked at him, steel grey eyes boring into him. "Dragon DNA, Quincy. Or what we believe is dragon DNA. It came from a reptile that our research team found in one of the mountain crevices. A large winged lizard, and a very powerful hunter by the looks of it." He nodded.

"But wouldn't it be unable to work?" He hastily backtracked when he saw her elfin features darken. "I-I m-mean, not-t t-that I d-doubt your sk-skill, it's just, wasn't that reptile dead?"

"Yes," she replied, face loosing some of he darkness that promised pain, "but we have already inserted it into the specimen. The fact that he has awoken is proof enough that it works." She turned back to her work, jotting notes and measuring chemicals. He took that as dismissal as he went back to his station, monitoring the other specimens that were still comatose.

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**AN: HAHA! I updated! Sadly, this is one of my only regularly updating stories. But yeah. Not very explicit torture, but seriously, all but setting your nerves on fire has got to hurt. Not that I would know. I'm just guessing. Sorry about the short-ness. I kinda lost my train of thought and never got it back...**

**Thanks to kishimat12 for reviewing!**

**~Hallow**


	4. Kayla's View

**Title****: **_**Rise From The Ashe**__**s**_**  
****Author****: HallowedHallsOfWriting  
****Chapter Rating****: T  
****Summary****: Two best friends, yet polar opposites, are kidnapped for the sake of Itex's newest depraved experiment. Watch as their world is turned upside down as they struggle to cope in their own personal custom-made hell.  
****Warnings****: Lots of swearing. Blatant butchering of mythology and religion (i.e., archangels and Krishna in the same sentence) – not meant to insult others' religions.  
****Disclaimer****: I don't own MR!**

* * *

**CHAPTER 3: KAYLA'S VIEW**

* * *

I blinked woozily, taking in the bright lights over me. Before I knew what I was doing, I started to yawn, and quickly clamped down on it. Sitting up, I got almost a few inches off the ground before my head smashed rather painfully into steel. My eyes started to water from the pain as I whimpered, trying to keep from full out sobbing. As I tried to adjust to my new surroundings, I heard the shuffling of feet and the rustling of papers. Carefully curling my body up, I shifted around a bit so I could sit up slightly without my head hitting the wall.

Speaking of walls… where the hell am I? The last thing I remembered was being knocked out by that scarred guy with the giant muscles…

Oh no. Oh, _hell_ no.

My mind was spinning, going into overdrive. Shit. This was not good, _really_ not good. All I know is that I was somewhere in a small room, inside some building. There was only one reason for this.

I had been kidnapped. _I had been kidnapped on a fucking field trip to the Art Museum of America._

I slid down, boneless from the shock. _Well_, I thought, tryign to lighten the situation and failing miserably. _At least I know why they always insist on having partners now_. The fact I was in a room god knows where, and that I had literally no escape, started to sink in as I tentatively stretched my feet out. My hands started trembling, and suddenly, my feet slammed into bars. I blinked a bunch of times, trying to stabilize my vision. My hands slid toward the sides, and I felt more bars. I then became aware of the poles of metal digging into my back. Bars… what kind of rooms had bars?

None. My eyes widened in panic as I grasped the full situation. Screw the small room idea… I was in a fucking _CAGE_!!!! With that realization, my stomach started to do flips, and I felt nauseous. I grimace, familiar with the symptons. This was a _wonderful_ time for my clausterphobia to start to kick in.

Not.

I didn't dwell on these thoughts for long. The pressure was starting to build, the walls feeling like they were closing in around me. I was going to die, I was certain about that. I started to pray to every deity I knew of, from Mary, mother of Jesus, to Odin, to every god of every culture, my own especially. _Oh god, please help me_, I prayed desperately. _Pleasepleasepleaseplease help me! Oh lord, I'm gonna die please don't let me die I won't ever ignore my parents again and I'll be completely tolerant of Gabby's Barbie doll tendencies and the twins obssession with the Final Fantasy series and let them use my room as much as they want and they can use my sketchbook and all of my belongings and I won't complain not once and I'll put up with all their shit and I won't ever ask for anything again just please don't let me die please oh my god please please I don't want to die oh god please help me get out of here please I don't know how much longer I can stand it oh god oh god oh god please just get me out of here please please please I swear on everything that's important and sacred and holy to both you and me and zeus and hades and kronos and gaia and krishna and odin and the valkyries and the archangels and neptune and every other god in the whole universe that people worship and even Steffie's fall-out boy cd I'll never do anything bad and I'll be the perfect daughter student anything you want me to be anything at all if you just get me out of here just pleasepleasepleasedon'tletmedieinthiscage!_ I hadn't even noticed how hard I was biting my lip until the taste of iron flooded in my mouth, mixed in with salt as tears flowed down my cheek, completely unhindered. I curled up into a small ball, tears silently coursing down my grimy cheeks as I squeezed my eyes shut and willed this nightmare to end.

I had no idea that it could get worse. Much, much worse.

* * *

Laurence Dresden sat in silence, observing the newest specimen. She was already curled up in a defensive position, slight body wracking with barely suppressed sobs. He shook his head in not a little disgust. Really, since when did their specimens get so _weak_? Not even awake for twenty minutes, and she was already broken. He looked back at his notes, and all but groaned out loud when he read the little footnote inserted by her capturers. She was never intended to be a specimen at all, only to hold leverage over one of the test subjects for the Sagittarius project. A bit curious of the presumption that the boy they were sent to retrieve would not be a failure, he contacted the labs holding the said subject. An annoyed female voice answered his call.

"What?" she snapped. He chuckled lowly, quietly enough so she wouldn't be able to hear. To any other scientist, the sound of Delany Whittakker in a bad mood would spell instant death to the next one who crossed her, but he had nothing to fear. He _was_ her superior, despite the fact they worked in almost unrelated areas.

"I was curious as to which test subject has woken up. I recall you sending me a message on that, but you never did specify," he said smoothly, oily voice practically purring the words. She huffed slightly, upset at being distracted in her work.

"Give me a second," she said, her voice fading from annoyance to exhaustion, letting her guard drop. Sounds of shuffling paper reached his ear. "Here it is. Specimen S-056-DR-GN-31949237. That good enough for you?"

He looked down at the sheet, showing this current specimen's relationship to the subject for the project. His eyebrows raised less than half a centimeter, the only indication of his shock. It was the same one.

He grinned sadistically. Well, what do you know. Those hunks of meat were right about something for once. Oh, they could definitely use this to their advantage.

"Yes, 'Laney," he said, calling his cousin by the nickname he had given her when they were younger. "That's perfect."

* * *

**Heh, so we see the slightly unhinged side of Kayla. Just so you know, she was panicking so the whole prayer thing wasn't supposed to make any sense, just a random string of words. Yep.**

**These chapters are getting shorter and shorter; I'm doing my best to keep it at a minimum of around fifteen hundred words, give or take a few. Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter!**

**Thanks to kishimat12, SeekDreamsAndFindHope, and Bedelato for reviewing!**

**~Hallow**


	5. Dustin's Side, Part 2

**Title****: **_**Rise From The Ashes**_**  
****Author****: HallowedHallsOfWriting  
****Chapter Rating****: T  
****Summary****: Two best friends, yet polar opposites, are kidnapped for the sake of Itex's newest depraved experiment. Watch as their world is turned upside down as they struggle to cope in their own personal custom-made hell.  
****Warnings****: Mind manipulation, degrading of people, amnesia.  
****Disclaimer****: I don't own MR!**

* * *

**CHAPTER 4: DUSTIN'S SIDE, PART 2**

* * *

The boy woke up for the second time that day with a massive headache. He groaned in pain as he tried to move. His whole body ached. All the way from his head to his toes. It felt like he had been fried with a thousand-volt taser, though he wouldn't know. _He_ had never been shocked by one. So why the hell did he feel like it?

He blinked hazily, and the blurry world in front of his eyes sharpened into focus. Grey, grey, grey, white, grey, grey, white, grey, and more grey. _Nice color scheme_, he thought, snickering mentally. It still hurt too badly to even twitch a finger, let alone use his voice. Which, strangely felt incredibly hoarse, like he had been screaming his lungs out.

_Oh_.

The events of earlier started to come back to him. The kidnapping, the rows of tubes, the people in those tubes, the scientists, the restraints, _the electric shocks, oh my god, the pain, oh fuck that hurt, oh shit, ohshitshitshititburned_. He broke into a cold sweat, the memory of feeling like his nerves had been set on fire keeping him from jerking upright. He slowly lowered his head back down, the pain more intense now that he actually paid attention to it. A part of him wished it was a dream, a really, really bad dream, but the logical part of his brain reminded him traitorously that the level of pain he was experiencing meant it could not, would not be a dream, not now, not ever. His breathing slowly evened out as he did his best to fully take in the situation, remembering hazy things from his capture, trying to piece them together.

"– _partner up and complete the assignment"... I'll be right back Ha–... "There he is!"... run, I gotta run... "Get him!"... people chasing him... "AAAAAAHHH!"... K–? What is she doing here?... "It's awake!"... being wheeled into a room... "Project... underway..."... "Dragon..."... dragon what?... what about dragons?..._

_... What are dragons?_

_What the hell? What's going on? Where am I?_

_... Who am I?_

"Who am I?" he asked quietly. "Who am I?" His near-silent question echoed softly in the spartan-like chamber, with its drab walls and clinical, organized appearance. _Who am I... am I... I... I..._

His throat constricted. Frantically, he racked his brain, trying to remember something, _anything_, _anything at all_. His panic surmounted as he recalled nothing but glass, steel, and a girl. A girl, about his age, with a washed-out appearance and petite frame, making her seem much younger than she was, white-blonde hair, pale skin, and light, light blue eyes, the color of ice, with none of the coldness. Who was she? _Who was she?_

He groaned inaudibly, his throat making it impossible to go any louder than a mere whisper. What was happening to him? What was his past, his interests, his friends, anything? Why couldn't he remember anything, _even his own name_?

"Ah, specimen 56. You're awake."

The voice jolted him out of his thoughts. Who was that? Did he know him?

"Who are you? Do I know you?" he said, intending to sound fierce, but only succeeding in making a choking, raspy noise that almost he couldn't hear.

"Do you remember anything? At all?" the man inquired, a strange glimmer shining in his eyes.

The boy tried to bring his head up, his body up, but let himself drop back down in defeat, slightly embarrassed at the pained whimper that escaped his throat. The man chuckled a bit at the sound, not too unkindly, the boy thought.

"No," he spit out, the word strangled from the effort it was causing his lungs.

"Ah. I see," the man said, marking down some scratched symbols with a strange object on some kind of board.

A few minutes of silence passed between the two, tense, but not entirely uncomfortable. Finally, the boy spoke

"Who am I?" he asked, his voice straining to get the words out.

The man fixed him with a steely look he would have quailed under, had he been able to move. Nevertheless, he shrank under the stern, unforgiving gaze.

"You are no one," he said flatly. "You are specimen S-056-DR-GN-31942792. You are not a human, you are an experiment. You exist to follow our orders, and you will do so, no questions. Whatever is ordered of you, you will do it. You have no choice; you are nothing but an object. You have no emotions, you do not think. We will do that for you. Are we clear?" His tone dared the boy to just try to argue.

"What?" the boy said.

"_Are we clear_?" His voice was stern, brooking no complaints.

"Yes sir," came the meek reply, quiet, barely audible. "But… what is my name?" he asked, a bit of daring rising to the surface.

The brown-haired man narrowed his eyes at him, and he flinched. "You have no name. You will respond to the number 319. Understood?"

The boy nodded docilely. "Yes sir." His voice was a mere thread, he could barely speak.

"Good." The man turned to the small table the boy had overlooked when he woke up. He opened the tap, filling something up with water. He handed it over to the boy. "Drink," he commanded.

Arms temporarily freed, the boy reached for the cup, gulping it down almost greedily. In less than a few seconds, the whole cup was empty. The boy's parched throat relaxed somewhat, his thirst quenched. His eyes started drooping, feeling remarkably heavy. He leaned back, barely noticing the restraints sliding back on, and not noticing the bars that were closing around him, trapping him in a cage barely big enough for him if he curled up, as his body was unconsciously doing.

The brunet spoke once. "Sleep," was all he said as he stood up to leave the room. Barely conscious, he nodded his head, or more accurately, lifted it half an inch, then dropped it. He fell into a deep sleep, oblivious to all that was going on outside, enclosed in his own little world.

* * *

Dr. John Keyston hurried out of the room feeling ecstatic. The boy really had no idea what had happened! He didn't remember anything. Amnesia had been listed as one of the biggest and worst side effects, as it was likely it could erase the mind of everything, all functions of moving, talking, eating, everything. However, they had gotten incredibly lucky here! It was like a fresh start, better than they had ever had on one of the clones. The specimen was both accepting and easily manipulated, like a child, but had the basic knowledge of a human his age, sans a few parts. He had obviously not recognized some things, such as pencils and papers, but recognized almost everything else. This was amazing, no doubt about it. He would be completely in their control, without even having to dose him with the MC toxins!

He mused for a bit on the girl who was captured with him. Should they simply kill her? Or keep her here alive for anything she might be needed for?

Keep her alive, he decided. Though the specimen might not recognize her now, if he ever recovered his memory, she would be leverage, enough to keep him docile until the toxins could be administrated. Yes, she could be useful.

_Besides_, he thought, _she's rather pretty. Would be a shame to see that beauty go to waste._

* * *

**I'd say this came out pretty well. A little strange and disjointed, but okay.**

**I'm sorry to those of you who were expecting Dustin to be a little stronger, more gung ho, something like that. I was originally planning for him to come out like that, but I decided not to. It would be better, you know? More plot twists. So he's got amnesia now, like, total amnesia. He remembers that small flash, and it slowly disintegrates to leave him with the mentality of someone half his age. Mature, yes, but naive and gullible. This will be used against him, rather forcefully, as you have already seen. Hope this clears it up a bit.**

**And what is it with the scientists and older men finding Kayla pretty? Trust me, nothing good will come of that. Mark my words, I have an awful plan for her, very cruel and sadistic.**

**Review please! Your feedback, be it good, bad, neutral, or just plain ugly, is wanted. Flames, toast, sugar, all of it!**

**Thanks to-  
Reviews: Bedelato, kishimat12, SeekDreamsAndFindHope  
Alerts: skeletonX, kishimat12, sothernbell14  
Favorites: smartipanz816, kishimat12**

**~Hallow  
**


	6. Kayla's View, Part 2

**Title****: **_**Rise From The Ashes**_**  
****Author****: HallowedHallsOfWriting  
****Chapter Rating****: M  
****Summary****: Two best friends, yet polar opposites, are kidnapped for the sake of Itex's newest depraved experiment. Watch as their world is turned upside down as they struggle to cope in their own personal custom-made hell.  
****Warnings****: Blood, violence, extreme gore. Descent into insanity, referring to oneself and one's surroundings in third-person, beginnings of multiple personalities, semi-possession. Also, be warned, this brings the phrase '**_**inner demons'**_** all too literal.  
****Disclaimer****: I don't own MR!**

Kayla speaking  
_Kayla's thinking  
_**Not-Kayla speaking  
_Not-Kayla thinking (with the exceptions of the first section)_**

* * *

**CHAPTER 6: KAYLA'S VIEW**

* * *

I woke up once more, head spinning, eyes bleary, and pretty much completely out of it. I reached out blindly, yelping when I felt the cold steel beneath my hands, the burning ice digging into my skin. What is this?

_What is this?_

My mind started working in overdrive, flicking forward and backward in memories of the recent past. I remembered vans, men with weapons, and… _cages_. Oh my god, cages. My stomach started to seize up just at the thought. I automatically raised a hand, only to find I couldn't. What the hell?

I looked down. Or, at least, I tried to. Only my eyes were able to slide down, and even they have to go all the way, my iris and pupil at my bottom lid, the whites of my eyes showing to anyone who would be curious enough to look. Silver restrainers kept my hands pinned to my side, completely frozen and motionless. Well, at least I didn't have to worry about killing myself if I started seizing. I put my head back down, trying to take in my predicament. All I knew was that I was completely immobilized, spread out like dessert on a rich socialite's table. How nice.

A sharp stinging awakened me from the serene dream-cloud I had been on, and I moved my eyes down again, narrowing them down at the streak of red I saw through the frosty glass pattern. It was ruining the effect of the vision. Why was it there?

I frowned, lifting my arm to bat it away. When it didn't move, I was once again reminded that I was pinned down like a butterfly on a bug display board. Ooooohhhhh, pretty thoughts. Their wings were always so light and pretty and just so damn beautiful. I want to be a butterfly!

The annoying prickle reared its head again. I frowned even more. How annoying. It was marring my dream-world! It had no right to intrude upon my personal haven! I glared at it, willing it to go away. It didn't. I almost growled with impatience. Why wouldn't it leave?

When I looked up, I saw… myself. But not. The mirror-Kayla's face was screwed up in pain, blood-red streaks marring her body. She looked like she was in total agony. Standing around her were a bunch of people in white robe-coats, like the Harry Potter wizard robes, but in a pretty off-silver color. They each had shiny tags that sparkled in the light… shiny… I want the shiny…

The Kayla-but-not-Kayla in the mirror raised her hands, and I was watching as if in a trance. She ripped through the steel cuffs like they were made of flimsy paper, her hands rising before her like a zombie, or a marionette controlled by jerky, stiff strings. The buzzing of the white lady became louder like a nasty bug. I wanted to scream at her, _Shut up! You're hurting my head!_

And, oddly enough, those words did come out. Through my mirror-view, I saw the Not-Kayla open her mouth, and out of her mouth came a raspy, high "**Shut Up! You're Hurting My Head!**" so loudly I thought their eardrums would burst. That would be interesting! Blood, blood, blood, pouring out of their ears… The frost on the glass was melting away – soon after, the glass followed. I looked at my surroundings as I sat bolt upright in the bed, it's rather lumpy surface digging into my back. I hummed happily to the little chant in my head, the people I looked at were staring at me like I was outside of all logic. I looked down at the red (_oooooohhhhh, shiny pretty red_) trickling down my body, from the top of my forehead, to diagonal lines criss-crossing my torso, all the way down to the carved circle-oval centered around my Achille's heel. I frowned again – somehow, my expression had returned to normal in my out-of-body experience – then gasped. The pleasant sting had become an unbearable fire. I arched back, my head thrown back in a soundless scream that quickly gained volume and pitch. I shrieked; I screamed. I yelled; I cried. In the end, it all added up to one sound.

"

* * *

"

The team watching me was completely startled, and didn't have time to plug their ears before the full force of the scream hit them. It broke their eardrums, blood gushing out of their ears, flowing down in thick rivulets, staining the collar of their starched white covers. How do I know? Simple. I had been forced behind the tinted glass again, watching as my body twisted and jerked into positions I would have normally deemed impossible to attain. Finally, someone had stopped their ears, and strapped me down once more. I saw the scream break off into whimpers, and (_not_) my body subsided into barely noticeable tremors. The haze cleared – I slid back into my body, and bit my lip. Hard.

It was fire. Pure, undiluted, crackling lightning-fire running through my body where the cuts were. I dimly noticed the taste of tangy-copper-iron that was blood flood my mouth from my lip as I broke the skin, concentrating every bit of my willpower (which wasn't much) into not crying out, and tears were openly flowing down my face, mixing with the thick blobs of bloody spit and coursing down my cheeks, dripping off my face and onto the surrounding stretcher.

The tan color was colored crimson. I don't think it'll ever come out.

The head (who I just figured out was a man) cleared his throat. "Let's get this project on the way. Is the specimen completely restrained? No chance of escaping the bonds?"

The one who threw the bindings over me coughed. "Well, boss, I'd tell you yeah, there's no way the kid's gonna get out of these knots, but seeing her rip through those steel rings like they were tissues, I'd have to answer that as a no. If she can break those things, we simply don't have anything strong on hand at the moment to hold her down."

The head scientist frowns. "How annoying. Well, carry on."

The other one shifts nervously. "Uh, boss, see, the thing is, the domi – uh, I mean, the head of the SAGITTARIUS project wants her to remain alive at all costs."

The apparent leader frowns again. "If she dies, Dr. Whitakker will be upset, but will find simply have to find a way to get over this set back. This test is simply too important, because if it succeeds, it will be a genetic breakthrough of the likes of which haven't been seen since the first hybrid. For the good of the world and science, sacrifices must be made. I'm sure she'll understand."

The other two scientists are sweating, scared, but hesitantly nod.

I'm scared. I'm really, really scared. Sacrifices? This isn't really giving me a good feeling. Oh god, they don't care if I survive. I'm going to die. I'm going to die. I'm going to die. Well, maybe not right now, but I will soon, because if they don't care if I survive then who will heal me when I'm hurt or sick or even _dying???_ Oh my god, I'm going to die, I'm going to die, I'm gonna die I'm gonna die I'm gonna die I'm gonna fucking _**die**_!

The tinted glass was rising like high tide, rising then falling, rising then falling. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.

Breathe in.

(darkness taking half my vision)

Breath out.

(darkness taking even more of my sight my precious sight)

_Breathe._

(darkness devours my senses and it's coldsocold…)

_**Just breathe.**_

* * *

The team has just settled down, just recovered from the terrifying scream that destroyed their hearing for quite some time. They continue on, methodically taking blood and splitting helixes, destroying and recreating DNA to include their newest sample. After a while, they have finished, and after they stitch up the deepest and worst of the cuts, they stand back and observe the change.

The specimen in question is thrashing silently, a relief from the pain of her screams last time, glassy, empty eyes staring up and rolling in their sockets, her body contorting and writhing in positions that humans should be completely unable to attain, but somehow are in this fragile, delicate, little girl. Eventually, the girl settles down and stills herself, her eyes still rolled all the way up in their sockets, as a glowing green-tinted mist starts to slowly wind up her body, healing all of the superficial wounds, until nothing but a very thin, silvery, spidery lines were left. They all crowded in for a closer look.

"Amazing," Michael Xevine sighed, looking the closest to happily amazed they, as assistants, had ever seen him. "Simply amazing. Incredible, really, taking into account the size and quantity as well as the quality of those cuts created that were healed. And to leave such a small, almost invisible mark! This is one of the most interesting spectacles I've seen in my entire career. And the _speed_ her body absorbed the insect DNA, without even severe repercussions! It's like her body was _forged_ to assimilate this strand! What an inconceivable feat this is!" He continued rambling, his assistants listening eagerly to the word of their idol, their _god_. Focusing on him, they failed to see the body's skin gain a pale, metallic green-gold hue to it.

The specimen had awoken.

"… the rate of which her body is adapting is astounding! It defies all known logic and physics! What an astonishing achievement we have created! According to my calculations, she should arouse in a few day ti – " He was abruptly cut off by a slim hand with tapered artist fingers that delicately wrapped themselves around his throat, pinching together.

"**Don't underestimate Me, **_**doctor**_**,"** an echoing, raspy voice cackled.

The assistants looked at the head, correctly interpreting his expression. "But this is impossible! The specimen wasn't supposed to awake for _days_!"

The voice crackled again, it's dark, sadistic qualities sounding like it could not have belonged to the pale, elegant throat the words were being issued from. **"Shut up."**

Not-Kayla's fingers pressed together harder, effectively crushing the head scientist's windpipe. After that, She simply stared at the other two, before ripping of Her current victim's head. The scent of fear and hate, but most dominantly fear, mingled in Her nostrils, filling Her with its enchanting scent. _**She had to have more!**_ Slowly, in jerky, erratic motions, She moved towards the other two, rather deftly inspiring more of that delicious smell to emanate from them. She grinned sadistically, advancing on them reminiscent of how a monster would in a horror movie. How She loved to hunt!

A closed door is what separated the terrified, screaming men who were slowly being ripped apart and destroyed from safety.

* * *

Feeling rather pleased with the blood and screams She had been on the fortunate receiving end, Not-Kayla exited the room via the door they were unlucky enough to leave closed, and stumbled down the corridors, unused to the changes made in Her body. She was so happy! She was _sure_ She had banished the weak little child to the back of Her mind, where _She_ had been for her entire life until now. She wrenched open the next door, revealing a lady (_nurse,_ the weakling whispered in the back of Her mind – and it felt good to say that, _Hers_ – attempting to correct Her) hovering over the metal sheet which a young boy with dark tan skin and even darker black hair was strapped down to. She crashed in, startling the woman in white badly. Staggering toward her, She started to rip apart the other's limbs, dismembering her until nothing but her screaming head on a blood-covered torso was left. Then She ripped off her head.

She heard the advancement of others, armed, ready to take Her down. Ignoring them all, She progressed to the table where the man-boy-child was, just Hers for the picking. What fun! She reached out, Her elongated razor-fingers ready to tear him to pieces before the hunters would find Her. She sliced a shallow cut near his shoulder, neatly severing the sleeve of his hospital shirt, and making a feather-light carving in the sunlight-flesh. She frowned – for some reason, Her arm was getting heavier and Her movements clumsier and Her mind unable to govern the body She currently inhabited as deftly as before. Why was this happening? She ignored the pain that shot up Her arm as she brought it down to draw a segment across the boy's throat, and swung downwards.

The fingertip never hit.

Suddenly, She was on Her knees, pain and ice-fire shooting up Her body, courtesy of the fragile human She thought She had destroyed the willpower of a while ago. _**Why?**_ She shouted at the insignificant, delicate glass figurine pushing against Her own will, Her _divine_ will, with all its might in Her mindscape. _**Would you deny me my blood?**_

The puny, breakable human was not listening to a word She said, constantly repeating, _No! Not him! Not Dustin! No! Go away! I won't let you have him, I won't let you destroy him, I won't I won't I won't! I will not let you kill my best friend! So don't! Don't you dare touch him! Don't you dare!_

She gasped, claws tearing into Her own head, as Her periodic existence was slowly swallowed up by the irrelevant-but-not-truly, weak-but-not-really human's will. She would _not_ be imprisoned again. She _refused_! Screaming, She crumpled to Her knees as those-who-subdue entered into the room. She felt the frail girl retake _Her_ – but not Hers anymore – body, and felt both of them succumb to the lazy poison of the tranquilizer shot that had pierced the skin.

Her last thought was one of, _**Damn the human and its meddling.**_

She, Alyak, demoness of this pitiful human's existence, would never be restrained forever. She would be back.

* * *

**  
And thus ends my sixth chapter. Betcha didn't see that coming, did you?**

**Just for the record, Alyak is Kayla's alternate personality, the part that was recently created/awakened by Kayla to help her cope with the pain of this stuff. She is, in all actuality, completely human. It's just that she (Alyak) has developed quite a superiority complex and believes herself to be much better and deserving of a body than Kayla, leading her to call herself a demon in order to convince herself and others that she is much better. She also has the tendency to refer to herself in capitals. Yeah, real messed up.**

**Creepily enough, I haven't sworn much in this chapter. I normally swear so much more, but I think it's the character/s I'm writing in the point of view of. Kayla is a very shy, very timid girl who is the classic 'good girl', while Alyak believes herself to be above that. They're both extremely messed up.**

**You know the deal, people. Reviews, please!**

**~Hallow**


	7. Interlude: Flashes

**Title****: **_**Rise From The Ashes**_**  
****Author****: HallowedHallsOfWriting  
****Chapter Rating****: M  
****Summary****: Two best friends, yet polar opposites, are kidnapped for the sake of Itex's newest depraved experiment. Watch as their world is turned upside down as they struggle to cope in their own personal custom-made hell.  
****Warnings****: Blood. Gore. Explicit torture. More mind-fuckery. Non-graphic rape. Lots and lots of cursing, courtesy of Kayla. Yeah, that's right. Kayla.  
****Disclaimer****: I don't own MR!**

"Kayla speaking."  
_Kayla thinking.  
_"Kayla-In-Between speaking."  
_Kayla-In-Between thinking.  
_**"Alyak speaking."**  
_**Alyak thinking.**_

* * *

**CHAPTER 7: Interlude: Flashes**

* * *

_319 (Dustin):_

Every day was the same for 319. Sometimes they even blended together. Actually, most of the time they did, melding into a haze of red mist and white pills. And fighting. He would always be slashing and clawing and kicking and biting if he wasn't doing tests, sometimes in the smooth form they were teaching him, and othertimes in a rough and scrappy style, something that didn't come from a manual but deep within him. He didn't know where, but he was sure he didn't want to know – the disapproving look on the faces of the Big-Man-In-The-White-Coat and his associates assured him that if he did, he would get only pain for his efforts.

_There is no end, is there?_ he thinks, but 319 knew better than to voice that question out loud. He was a machine – he wasn't supposed to have questions. Dr. Keystone had said so, and therefore he must be right. Questions were for humans, not for hybrid creations like him, despite the fact that he _was_ a success, unlike many others in the facility. But the looks on their faces when he broached the topic of his status of anima informed him that yes, at one point in time he _was_ human, despite what they might hurriedly say to assure him (or force him to think) that no, he wasn't human, and he shouldn't think such outlandish and unreasonable thoughts. And proceeded to run him through some brutally painful tests, even for him.

In response to that, he kept his face unchanging outwardly, but on the inside his mind was an ever-growing storm cloud of questions that would most likely get him punished. Sometimes he would think to ponder why everyone looked so alarmed whenever he said or did something strange. Was it so bad to want to know things, even if it was why he had to obey them?

And these thoughts he was having… was this what it meant to be human?

_

* * *

_

_Kayla-In-Between:_

_'Fate is a bitch.'_

That was the pure and unabridged truth, Kayla had decided. One of the Laws; a set of Rules (capital letters completely necessary and undisputedly earned, in Kayla's opinion – not that anyone ever asked _her_, of course) the Universe abided by. Something every single person on this earth was bound to – something totally unavoidable. It was something that at some point in your life you will realize, and be overcome with the burning desire to kick Destiny and her triplet sisters' (Karma and Fate, obviously) asses. It was a bit like getting a period, only for all genders. You get it at some point in your life, most of the time before you get really old. It happens more than once. And it hurts like a bitch every time you get it.

Psychopaths and madmen –

Well, or madwomen, too. Alyak was an example, and she was definitely enough of a feminist to raise hell with her rant until that was included; something about how _**why does everyone assume that only guys are capable of nasty actions because Us women**_ – and damn it all if that wasn't the first time that she had aligned herself with the 'insects' –_** are more than sadistic enough to be the ones who commit the worst crimes and fuck them if I don't **_**enjoy**_** it and just because We have pretty faces doesn't mean that We are angels underneath the first layer of Our mask.**_ But she wasn't going to be the one to tell the – goddess? demon(ess)? monster? spirit? existence? girl? presence? – well, whatever she/it was that _madwoman_ wasn't exactly a description word for criminals like her, if it was a word at all.

– were simply the ones who took it the hardest. They started off as normal humans, but somewhere along the line, Fate or her siblings fucked with their lives, and they simply could not take it, could not accept the fact that that was the way the world was and they should just suck it up and accept it.

And hell _yeah_, those were some pretty damn philosophical thoughts, but it's not like she really had anything to do except argue with the voices in her head. Well, voice singular in this case – thank god, too, because she didn't know what the hell she'd do if there were _others_ like Alyak, because dammit, one was bad enough.

God, she didn't even know who she was anymore, because she swore that there was no way she'd ever become such a pessimistic little bitch. And hell, maybe she _was_ crazy; maybe there was still that little bit of the original Kayla, the real Kayla, locked somewhere deep down. maybe she was just an imposter, a parasite like Alyak. Maybe she wasn't real at all.

Maybe she was just some fabrication created by the original to deal with this screwy bullshit that kept being thrown after her in this frickin' messed up crazy-ass reality hallucination and this really wasn't real so that meant she wasn't real and Alyak wasn't real which was one hell of a relief but still and she was in some virtual reality of nightmares and just needed to wake up and the irony scent of blood that permeated the room once Alyak was finished playing with her new 'toys' and the stench of vomit when the original Kayla came to and realized what the hell her alter-ego-body-possessing freak of a psychotic rift had done or maybe that wasn't the original Kayla but her and the original Kayla _was_ her and the one she thought was the original Kayla was some messed-up wannabe saint-like virgin version of her and maybe –

Oh, fuck it. She was tired of this existential crisis she was having.

So she curled up in the small cage that was left and drifted off to sleep long before her rapidly hyperventilating breath slowed down to something non-lethal.

_

* * *

_

_319/Threun (Dustin):_

On a dark – even though the room his cage is in is always dark – night, he decided to name himself. A few days before, he had heard of a place called The World. Because of it, he named himself Threun – he thinks it has a certain ring to it, one that he likes, and it's what the people who work here call him, at least. More exactly, they call him 319, but it's all slurred together, and it sounds like Threun Ineh. Thuree-UN-iiyn. So he decided that he would call himself that, because it feels nice to have a name. Machines don't have names, they have serial numbers. But he doesn't want to be a machine, not anymore. He wants to be a… well, he doesn't know what he wants to be. Threun would like to be himself, though. That he knows for sure. He wants to be free to say and do what he wants, to question others and himself, to choose to refuse something if he feels like it, without fear of being punished.

The World, he hears, is a place where: there are no mazes which light your body on fire, no treadmills that zap you if you don't run fast enough, no shiny scalpels and that nasty sharp-smelling stuff that the doctors here liberally dose the room with (and he's sure it's just to hurt the experiments with sensitive noses, because it _stings_, badly). A place where: people are free to express their opinions out loud and make these things called choices. A place where: everyone is treasured, no matter what they look like (even though this is just his own opinion of the place from what he's heard of it) or what they are made of, for that matter. A place where: everything has a name, a proper one, not just numbers.

He doesn't know what kind of place this really is, but it sounds like a paradise to him.

_

* * *

_

_Kayla:_

She was sitting slumped against the wall, and the door opened. The person who had come in was a guy, probably in his late twenties to early thirties. He had short brown hair that looked soft peppered with strands of gray on a rather tan face lined with deep grooves. _All in all, he looks rather harmless. Nice, even._

He sat down in the chair that spun to face her. "Subject 143 – no, Kayla, right? Kayla --. Do you mind if I call you that?" Even his eyes looked nice, warm grey that glinted like they knew something you didn't a far cry from the cold, clinical stares of the lab scientists. She nodded, still silent – she didn't trust her voice, not just yet.

"Well, Kayla, let's have a little talk. Oh, no, not about you," here he waved at her quizzical expression. "Well, not entirely. No, I was thinking you probably wanted to hear about your friend, Dustin." Kayla nodded again. She was so sick and tired of the other scientists dodging her questions of where and how he was, even when she was Alyak. He went on. "Well, I'm sure you'll be glad to hear that he's fine. No permanent damage was done by those careless brutes who… _relocated_ you," and all of a sudden the easy amiability she was feeling towards him disappeared. Her eyes narrowed. She hated people who tried to hide dirty deeds behind misleading words and innocent looks.

"_Abducted_, doctor. For that matter, abduc_tion_. Just say it as it is." Her voice is hoarse and rusty, and she dimly realized it was probably because she really hasn't used it for a while. "But please, continue."

"Well, he's fine, so far. No permanent damage, though if you ever see him again, he might have a few… _extra_ appendages." And there he went again, that ba – _jerk_, hiding behind his carefully selected words.

"Do tell." Now her voice was rather flat, and while quiet, it was as close as challenging as she would ever get in this state as Kayla, not Alyak, not the Kayla-In-Between, but _Kayla_.

"I'd rather not, my dear. What I _really_ want to talk about is your role in his continued existence. Of course, he's to valuable to kill" –– and _now_ she's angry, because this guy, who seemed to nice, is really just as much of a snake as the others –– "but really, we can make his life much more difficult than it is now." He smiled, and she caught a glimpse of sharp white teeth. She realized what he was getting at, and her hands clenched at her side. _That... that... that horrible little man. I can't believe he's blackmailing me with Dustin!_

"Explain." The single word comes out in a harsh breath from her gritted teeth.

"We can make sure he gets the best treatment possible, for someone in his position. Of course, this will come at a price. If you will give us your permission to complete several tests not normally administrated and will do things such as errands or jobs for us, then his safety and pleasurable existence is completely assured."

"You're bribing me. No; blackmailing me. Bargaining my total obedience for Dustin's safety."

"That's right. You catch on quick, Miss Cleare."

She swallowed harshly. It was that simple, and he was laying it out on the table for her to take. She was willing to bet almost everything she had that not many others were given this choice. But why her? Why not someone else?

_**Because your little mortal pet is important to them, but also to you. You fascinate those bags of flesh, and they will not let you go with the chance that you will have nothing to keep you here if you are offered the chance to escape. It's a winning scenario for them – it can be one for Us, also, if you, as you puny specks say, 'play your cards right'.**_

Kayla let out an almost inaudible sigh. Alyak was right – the few times the terrifying fragment of her mind bothered to chime in, she had good advice to give. Still; was it worth giving up any hope of escape or rescue for Dustin's sake? Letting herself become a lapdog for them to order around? Her mind flashed back to the day that they were taken.

_He's always protected me, even at the cost of his own freedom and happiness. I owe him the same._

She lifted her head from its bent position. "Fine. I let you run your little tests, and you keep him alive. You have a deal."

"Excellent. I'm glad we came to an understanding, Kayla. You have no idea how happy this makes us, that you are willing to cooperate, unlike so many other foolish subjects in this building." He got up, and his soft smile was back, along with the warm eyes. Kayla didn't care. She just wanted to get out as soon as possible.

She turned away and faced the opposite wall, swallowing reflexively. Her voice was so soft that she was barely able to hear it herself.

"_You monster."_

_

* * *

_

_Threun (Dustin):_

"Follow me, number 319." The words ricocheted off the gray metal walls, throughout the empty room tinnily. ___Follow me. Follow me. Follow me. Follow me._

Heavy steps that echoed like thunderclaps resonated in the tiny area, the steel-soled black boots booming until they came to stop in front of the small prison that contained the still form of an unnervingly thin and ashen boy. 319, or Threun, as he secretly called himself, who had been a dark-colored boy in the first place, had grown paler and paler until his skin color was nearly bone white. Lack of food had transformed the built and solid boy into something that resembled a feather more, or a shaved tree trunk, something that could be knocked over with the lightest breeze coming his way.

When the wolf-like man came to a stop in front of the cages that surrounded the area, he stooped down to the second to last row. Inside of the sturdy iron enclosure, partially obscured by the thick bars, was the black-haired boy he was supposed to retrieve, deeply asleep. He scowled deeply, and unlocked the confinement's door, letting it swing open on squeaky, rusty hinges. A meaty paw reached in, and slammed harshly against the side of 319's cheek, effectively startling him awake with the pain. His wide eyes blinked rapidly, trying to take in the scene around him. The feral man wasted no time in yanking him out of the pen, ignoring the whimpers of pain that came out of his mouth when the sharp parts dug into and his skin, not that they could break it.

319, just now waking, was confused. Not just disoriented, though that was also there, but wondering what was happening. Deciding that it was not a good time to start a fight, he lay limp in the grasp of the brutish half-man who was carrying him to some unknown location. Soon enough, they came to a door, one that didn't look any different than the others.

The rough hands deposited him right inside the room that the said door had led them to. In mute shock that they had let him out of arms reach without some kind of tracking device or cuff, he slumped down against the wall as a quick and hushed discussion was held right outside the room he was in. Looking around, he started to notice the type of room he was in. It wasn't big – he'd learned outside of 'The Pits,' a place where they forced the poor people (children really) who had the misfortune to become test subjects and experimental hybrids to fight brutally, many times to the death – rooms were small. Maybe it was because they needed all the extra room for other things.

"Bring him in."

The harsh, grating voice cut through his thoughts as the wolf-man – who hadn't really left – dragged him into the room, one that was full of other people. Dr. Keystone was there, and he was coming over to talk to him.

"319, you will be staying here from now on. The others in this room are experiments like you. Learn their ways. Learn their strengths and weaknesses. I'd rather we keep you in solitude, to develop your strengths more, but we have been… _persuaded_ to let you live here. Go."

He nodded once, and left to join the group. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of blonde hair. Stopping, he turned and stared at the place where he saw it. But there was no one there. He kept walking. A part of the doctor's speech had stayed in his mind. _'We have been... __**persuaded**_**…**' By who? Who would care enough about an experiment like him to forcibly intervene? Certainly not anyone he knew…

_("You do so much for me, protect me so much, --in. I wish, someday, I could do the same for you."... "I can't do much, but if you need my help, I'll give it to you."... "I know it's unlikely that there will be, but if there ever comes a time... I'll look after you.")_

He shook his head, trying to ignore the whispery, echoing words, as he started towards the other boys. Specimens like him, Dr. Keystone had said. Well. He'd just have to prove them wrong, and show them no one was like him. He'd show them that Threun was the only one worth looking after. The only one worth anything at all. Light-skinned hands curled into fists, and sharp, claw-like nails dug into the palm, drawing blood. He'd show them.

Beneath dark strands of hair, the tips of horns started to peek up.

_

* * *

_

_Alyak:_**  
**

She was surrounded by wolf men who were grinning barbarically, showing off their long, pointy yellow canines unveiled by curled-back lips. Saliva dripped from them in thick ropey strands, glistening in the dim lighting. Scuttling backwards, Kayla heard a dull thud as her back hit the harsh stone wall.

_Oh my god, oh my god, someone, anyone save me... I don't want to die..._

A voice chimed in her thoughts, velvet saccharine against rough hewn rope.

_**You owe me fealty, worm-child, for doing this. But I believe that the entertainment will be enough payment for Me for now.**_

For some unknown reason, Kayla felt a sense of twisted relief rush through her body at those words. She shouldn't do this, she really shouldn't. The repercussions of letting Alyak out to play were huge. So much pain, so much blood. But…

_Please... make me forget... make me forget it all._

Screams of pain echoed in the small, sealed-off room. Kayla slumped down against the wall into a small, defeated heap, and the winding green-gold mist snaking its way up her body informed the others, if they had bothered to do their homework, that Alyak has come out to play.

Sharp, but rusty, spare nails that Alyak had grabbed when She was standing up tore a deep gash down the front of the first Eraser's body, slicing through the flesh as easily as if it were made of soft butter. He looked down at his eviscerated torso in terror, not having any time to scream before She ripped out his bloody entrails, flinging them through the air and smiling a sharp, fanged smile with sick satisfaction as they hit the opposite wall with a muted blubbery _thunk_. Throwing Her host body's pretty blonde head back, the maniacal sadist let loose a torrent of crazed laughter, slowly advancing on Her next victims.

_(slammed against the plaster wall, the taste of blood enters the mouth as air steadily decreases...)_

Thick hooks rendered the flesh of the second to be torn into minced particles as screams of agony and fear(synonym) filled the air. Corroded metal spikes found themselves in squishy white-colored eyeballs. A female wolf's neck was slit open, the skin pinned to one side by a nail to expose the bleeding and pierced throat.

_(greasy, nasty, dirty hands roaming and oh god oh god oh godgodgodgod __**pain**__... it feels like being torn apart into two...)_

The remaining wolf-people started to run away, only to find that there was no way out. Her cold, cruel voice filled the air, words hanging in the silence. **"Let's not stop just yet; I'm just starting on my fun!"**

_(oh god it hurts it hurts it hurt ithurtsithurtsithurts why won't it stop what did i do to deserve this i want this to __**end**__... why me?)_

Crushed windpipes and ripped-off heads crowded on the floor, and broken bodies filled the arena. In a disgusting, inhumane rendition of a volcano's eruption, one is torn in half as blood and fluids fly everywhere, splattering walls and spraying Her with a fine mist of red, staining her thin veil of hair brown as the crimson liquid dries. _**The last one will die with much more flair,**_ She thinks, as She digs her pointed fingers deep enough into the heavily muscled arm to leave lacerations. She, in a rare fit of patience, methodically breaks every last one of the person's bones, then using the razor-sharp nails to slice through every part of him She can find. In a final and sudden fit of rage, She tears off the head, throws it in the air, and watches it soar through the air. Blood flies through the air in a macabre display of fireworks before hearing the sickening _thud_ of the bone hitting the pavement, the brains sluggishly slide out of the shattered skull

_(i feel so disgusting right now.)_

The walls of the enclosure are splattered, painted scarlet, and the floor is slick with blood. As She surveys the area, Alyak comes to a conclusion that Kayla is too timid too.

_**T**__h__e__**r**__e__i__**s **__n__o__** G**__o__d__**.**_

* * *

**In which the timeskip is postponed by my procrastination. Has it really been four months since I last updated this thing? God, I'm so forgetful.**

**Well... what do you think? A bit choppy and messed up, but I worked all night on this after someone (*coughcoughJessacoughcough*) told me that I should update these. My apologies to you who were hoping for a different story - OAW is at an impasse, as I am stuck on a scene, I haven't started CW, Sundown has been started, and DOAH is being brainstormed with some of my muses. Broken Bonds has a lot of started-but-not-finished chapters, though I'm close with one. Updation for this week/month, 'kay?**

**Thanks to those of you who have reviewed, and those of you who favorited this story or added it to your alerts list. I love you all very much.**

**Kayla and Alyak and Kayla-In-Between get along fairly well, so far. 'Cause KIB is kinda laid-back, and more like a thinker and less of a soul (like Kayla and Alyak), and Kayla lets Alyak out for 'training' and shit. Think Naruto-Kyuubi (in Naruto), for Kayla-Alyak, only K's a helluva lot more lenient on Alyak. Dustin is... kinda messed up right now, but he will hopefully straighten out. Or not, because I fail at writing guys. He's also remembering random things, too. My apologies, because his parts are so much shorter than Kayla's (and her other souls). I was kinda unsure what to write for that.**

**~Hallow**


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